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“You don’t have to stay so far from me,” I say. “I trust you. ”
“You shouldn’t. ”
Lying by typing still driving, I push Send and put the phone back in my coat pocket. “If you were going to hurt me you wouldn’t have saved me from that fight or brought me home to use your shower. You also wouldn’t be standing all the way over there, so I trust you. ”
“And that’s just bad for both of us,” he mumbles and then speaks to me in a normal tone. “Are you in trouble at home?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. My brother is good at distracting my parents. ”
“That’s not what I mean,” he says. “You were seriously trippin’ when you thought you had to go home with beer on you. Your parents—how hard-core are they?”
I swipe at my forehead as if there’s a stray hair to be restyled and feel naked when I don’t find one. “I don’t understand. ”
Isaiah hops off the counter, and I’m mesmerized by the fluid way he walks: a sleek predator on the move. “It’s okay. I get it. Sometimes things are. . . ” And he’s near me. Close enough that I have to lift my head to see his face. “Rough. ”
“It’s. . . ah. . . it’s. . . ” I love his eyes, and my skin tingles with the thought of his hands on me again. “Ah. . . ” What were we discussing? Parents. Right. My parents. “It’s complicated. ”
Complicated as in I’ve been failing miserably at replacing my mother’s dead daughter. My parents and oldest brothers have told me enough Colleen stories for me to be well aware that she would never have broken curfew, participated in a drag race or been alone with a guy.
“Right,” he says so slowly that the word sounds unbelievably sexy. “Complicated. So. ” He pauses. “Are you ready for me to take you back to your car?”
Yes. No. Yes. Maybe not. Oh, crap. It’s ending too soon and I don’t want it to. I’m not good at this. I’m not smooth or good with words or good with guys or good with people. I’m silent. I blend in. How do I make this not go away?
“I like you,” I whisper and immediately stare at my shoes. Of all the things I could have said, that shouldn’t have been it. I. Am. An. Idiot.
A gentle tug on my hair sends goose bumps raining down my arms. I close my eyes and relish the sweet brush of his knuckles against my neck as he flips my hair over my shoulder. “Rachel?”
“Yes?” I say so softly he may not have heard me.
His hand caresses the sensitive spot right below my chin, and with a gentle pressure, Isaiah raises my head until I look into those warm silver eyes. “I like you, too. ”
The right side of my mouth quirks and a spring of hope bubbles up inside me. He likes me. A really hot, really awesome guy likes me.
“Good,” I say a little breathlessly. “That’s good. ” More than good. It’s great.
Chapter 13
Isaiah
I GLANCE DOWN AT RACHEL’S mouth and feel the urge to press my lips to hers. I’m a fucking jackass. I suck in a breath through my mouth to avoid her scent and step back, dropping my arm to my side. I did not bring her back here to have sex.
Hell yes, she’s hot and my mind won’t stop replaying the twelve different ways I could possibly do her, but she’s not that type of girl.
I rub my eyes. I haven’t touched anyone since Beth, but that doesn’t mean I have the right to come on to a girl that’s too good for me. I slump onto the couch and notice how Rachel shifts uncomfortably. Dammit, she shouldn’t have to put up with my mood swings.
“I do like you,” I repeat. “There’s only one other person who’d stick their neck out for me. If there’s anything I can do for you, name it and it’s yours. ”
The chaos in my mind begins to clear as I start to understand why I’m acting like a maniac. Beth’s been the only girl to mean something to me, and I generally don’t give a shit about people. I’m confusing lust and friendship and creating crap that’s not there. Fuck yeah, I’m attracted to Rachel, but the emotions going on. . . it’s because I owe her.
“Will you let me clean up your cut?” she asks.
I check out the small hunk of skin missing from my forearm, having forgotten about the wound. “It’s all good. I’ve had worse. ”
“No, you said that if you could do something for me, you would, so let me do this. ”
“Yeah. If I can do something for you. Not have you do something for me. ”
Rachel clasps her hands behind her back like she doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I want to do this, and I’d like you to let me. ”
